


Group Project

by orphan_account



Series: Teacher!Lestrade AU [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-08
Updated: 2014-06-08
Packaged: 2018-02-03 22:42:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1758763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a misunderstanding with Sherlock Lestrade calls his guardian for help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Group Project

                Greg Lestrade sighed as he considered his most difficult student. Greg absolutely did not have favorite students (no matter what Donovan said), but if he did his most difficult student and his favorite would probably be one in the same. And wasn’t that just the kind of contrary thing he’d do? He rubbed a hand over his face and said, “You need a partner, Sherlock. This is supposed to be a group project.”

                “There are an uneven number of students in your class for the next week at least. I’m smarter than everyone else so I’m much more capable of working alone than anyone else.”

                “Group projects are supposed to teach you how to get on with others. A skill you lack by the way. That’s why I paired you with Stamford and Murray. You already tolerate them mildly better than everyone else in class.”

                Sherlock scoffed “I don’t need to get on with anyone. I have John.”

  
                Greg raised a brow and asked, “And where is John now?”

                Sherlock narrowed his eyes at him because he hated obvious questions, but he could tell Greg was going somewhere with this. Greg honestly tried not to preen at having given Sherlock pause. Those occurrences were far and few between. Finally Sherlock answered, “John is out sick. You _know_ that, Lestrade.”

                “Yeah. That’s my point though. You can’t always expect John to be on hand to deal with the lesser mortals.”

                Sherlock froze and Greg was sure he’d somehow managed to slow his pulse down. Greg watched with the morbid fascination he watched any odd thing that the boy did. After a full minute had passed Greg said his name, which had no effect other than causing Sherlock to blink. After five minutes Greg stood and announced that he was getting the nurse. He had just reached the door when Sherlock demanded, “You think John’s going to leave me?”

  
                Greg turned slowly, aware that he was entering a conversation he was not prepared for, and stared.  Sherlock’s expression was unnaturally vulnerable and uncertain. “What?”

                “You said that I need to learn how to deal with people because John won’t always be there. Did he say something? Talk to you about it? Is that why he’s out sick? He doesn’t want to be friends anymore, does he?” Panic made Sherlock’s voice rise, which was a little terrifying since Sherlock liked to pretend he had no feelings.

                “What? No! Of course not! You’re John’s best mate. Everybody knows that!”

                “I knew he was angry about his rugby uniform.” Sherlock continued, ignoring Greg. “He kept going on about how it was fine! I _knew_ it! What do I do Lestrade?”

                “What?” Greg asked dumbly. “Sherlock, listen. John wouldn’t get rid of a friend over a rugby uniform. You misunderstood”-

                “Toast!” Sherlock shouted. “John loves toast! He’s practically obsessed with it. You have no idea how many times he goes on about me eating some toast. I will get him apology toast!”

                “Sherlock, I really don’t think”-

                “No, it’s fine.” Sherlock insisted as he moved to get his things with a sudden burst of movement. “I’ll get jam too. I’ll even apologise and offer to… moderate myself.”  
                “Moderate?” Greg cried. “John is friends with you as you are. He defends you against arseholes who tell you to change.”

                “Good-bye Lestrade! I’m off to buy toast!”

                “Buy?” Greg repeated as Sherlock swept out of the room.

                Greg sat back in his seat heavily. He covered his face and tried not to listen to the voice in his head that was calling him every name in the book. But, really, how could he be so stupid? Of course Sherlock would overreact to the idea of John not being around. How could he not? Sherlock didn’t make friends. He didn’t like people or believe they had any real purpose. Then John Watson had come along and turned Sherlock’s world upside down. Greg grinned as he remembered the look on Sherlock’s face when John had first said that Sherlock was fantastic. They’d become fast friends, which had greatly relieved Greg, who had been worrying about Sherlock for years.

                It was obvious that Sherlock was at least a little in love with John. (Although Greg doubted that Sherlock did anything by halves.) After all Sherlock did nearly anything John asked and _thank god_ John was a good person so he didn’t take advantage of Sherlock. Greg wasn’t sure if John knew how his friend felt or if it would matter. As far as Greg knew John had only ever shown interest in girls. John’s obvious preference was most likely why Sherlock had never said anything. That and the boy probably would not want to risk ruining his relationship with the only person he cared about.

                And Greg had just let an emotionally stunted and half-panicked Sherlock loose on a sick John. He released a pent-up sigh before getting Sherlock’s file. In the years he had known Sherlock Greg had never met his parents or even spoken to them. Every time there was a meeting a PA would show up to give and receive information. Greg hoped he could finally talk to someone who actually cared about Sherlock. (Hopefully his parents cared.)

                After a few rings a posh, bored sounding voice answered, “Hello?”

                “Hi. This is Greg Lestrade and I’m calling for Sherlock Holmes’ parents.”

                “I’m afraid that’s not possible. They are deceased.”

                Greg let his posture fall as he leaned back in his seat. That information came as something of a blow to him and he could only imagine how it was for Sherlock. “Oh. Jesus Christ. I had no idea. When did that happen?”

  
                “When he was fourteen, shortly before he met you in fact.” The voice clipped. “Forgive me but how is that relevant?”

  
                “They died that long ago?” Greg asked in surprise. “I had no idea. But, then. I don’t understand. Who have I been dealing with all this time? Who is Mycroft Holmes?”

  
                “I am. How may I help you Mr. Lestrade?”

                Greg briefly ignored the mission he was on to say, “Hang on. Who are you to Sherlock?”

  
                There was a beat of silence, during which Greg could practically feel the annoyance from the other man, before he replied, “I am his legal guardian.”

                “And?”

  
                “And what?”

                The man had definitely moved away from polite, disinterested annoyance to brisk irritation. “Well you must be something more to him than just his legal guardian. Unless it’s just a huge coincidence that your name is Mycroft Holmes and his is Sherlock Holmes. But… well, that seems unlikely.”

                There was a pause on the other end of the line that made Greg wonder if he had crossed some odd line. Normally he wouldn’t be self-conscious about asking a question like that but with Sherlock he had learned that nothing was ever just as it seemed. Still he refused to be cowed and remained silent, waiting. Finally the man replied, “I am Sherlock’s elder brother.”

  
                “Oh! And you were his guardian when he was fourteen? That must be some age difference.”

                “There is a seven year difference.” Mr. Holmes seemed to have resigned himself to small talk. He was much more polite than Sherlock was about it but it was obvious that it bored him just as much. With Sherlock Greg would have hurried to make his point, but Mr. Holmes’ boredom amused Greg. He wondered how long he could push Mr. Holmes before the man finally snapped.

                Then the age difference registered for him. “Seven years,” he cried. “You’re only twenty-four! You’re just a kid.”

                “You’re hardly an old man. According to my files you’re only thirty-two.”

                “I just meant – wait. What do you mean according to my files? Do you have files on me? How do you have files on me? Aren’t I supposed to be the one with files?”

                “Hardly seems fair for you to have all of the information. Don’t worry though there’s nothing indiscreet. Nothing you should be worried about.”

                Greg narrowed his eyes even though he knew that Mr. Holmes couldn’t actually see him. “That sounded suspiciously like a threat.”

                “Did it? Interesting.” Mr. Holmes drawled. “Was there an actual purpose to this call, other than to quiz me about my credentials?”

                “Yeah. Although, you know if you had talked to me sooner rather than always sending a PA I wouldn’t have gotten distracted.”

                “So the purpose of this call was to criticize me?”

                “No! No, listen I’m calling because I had a meeting with Sherlock today. I was assigning group projects and Sherlock was… resistant.”

                “Ah. Well the simple solution would be to pair him with John Watson. I’m surprised I have to tell you that.” Mr. Holmes interrupted, sounding bored.

                “See I would, except John’s been out sick lately.”

                “Oh.”

                Well, at least he had Mr. Holmes’ attention again thought Greg. “Yeah. And I may have… well, I may have made things worse.”

                “How?”

  
                “I was just trying to get Sherlock to understand that people skills are important too. But of course he was being Sherlock so he wasn’t listening. Then I... it wasn’t my finest moment actually. I told him he couldn’t always rely on John to be around to handle people for him.”

                Mr. Holmes sighed heavily, “Oh dear.”

                Greg nodded emphatically even though Mr. Holmes still couldn’t see. “Mm. So then Sherlock started talking about John’s rugby uniform and apology toast and… yeah. He seemed a bit panicked actually.”

                There was a long silence that Greg didn’t really understand. He wondered what Mr. Holmes was thinking or if he was supposed to say something more. Was he supposed to apologise for alarming Sherlock? He would, he supposed, but they honestly had bigger things to worry about right now. Finally Mr. Holmes asked, “So the reason for this call is…?”

                Greg admitted to being taken aback by the question. The conversation had been a bit unique but he had thought that Mr. Holmes had more than a passing interest in Sherlock. Mr. Holmes obviously knew about John and Greg doubted that Sherlock would volunteer that information to someone he didn’t know cared about him. Greg cleared his throat and said, “I can’t actually warn John that I may have upset Sherlock. So I called you to tell you because you’re his guardian and you can tell John all about it. You might call John, who is sick, in case you missed me mentioning that, and tell him a slightly emotionally distraught Sherlock will be coming for a visit.”

                “I see. You want me to do this because…?” Mr. Holmes sounded faintly amused as he asked the question.

                “Well John is Sherlock’s best friend and he keeps the boy out of too much trouble. I would think you’d like to repay the favor anyway you can.”

                “You called me because you want me to warn John that Sherlock is distraught?” Mr. Holmes murmured absently. Greg had a feeling that was a rhetorical question so he didn’t bother saying anything. “I see. Thank you for the call Mr. Lestrade. The matter will be dealt with.”

                “Dealt with?”

                “Good-day.”

                “Wait!” Mr. Holmes hung up before Greg could say anything more.

                Well. That hadn’t exactly gone as Greg had thought that it would. Still at least Mr. Holmes had agreed to warn John about what was coming. – Or at least Greg thought he had. - It hadn’t given too much insight into whether Mr. Holmes cared about Sherlock but for some reason Greg guessed he did. Taking on the guardianship of a fourteen year old kid when you were only twenty-one was a lot of responsibility. When that kid was Sherlock Holmes it was probably even harder. The PA constantly coming for the meetings probably should have meant that Mr. Holmes didn’t care. But Greg had a feeling it had more to do with the Holmes’ inability to deal with stupid people. (It spoke volumes about the amount of time Greg spent with Sherlock that Mr. Holmes viewing him as stupid didn’t bother him.) Deciding that there was nothing else he could do Greg started grading papers.

~~~ 

 

                The next day Greg was preparing the room for his first class when there was an abrupt knock on his door. Before he could say anything the door opened to reveal John Watson. A very pale, irate looking John Watson. There were dark circles under his eyes and his nose was bright red. Greg blinked at him in surprise before saying, “Christ, John. You look terrible. What are you doing here?”

                John’s nostrils flared as he leveled a glare at Greg. Most people thought that John was just a good-natured guy but Greg knew about his short temper. Suddenly John’s face relaxed and his posture changed, Greg knew not to trust that trick, and he shrugged casually. “Oh you know. I was at home coughing with a fever when I thought I should come see what the bloody hell you told Sherlock yesterday!”

                Greg winced at John’s tone. He knew he should rebuke him since it wasn’t really appropriate for a student to use with a teacher. Instead he asked, “Did Mr. Holmes call you?”

                John gave him a blank look before frowning. “No Mycroft didn’t call me. Do you know what did happen? I was _sleeping_ , finally sleeping, when Sherlock showed up. He showed up with about thirty pieces of toast and was rambling on about my rugby uniform. Then he starts reading some stupid essay he wrote on why it would be mutually beneficial for us to continue being friends! When I asked him what the hell he was going on about he said that _you_ had warned him that I was thinking about leaving him! Jesus Christ! What did you _say_ to him, Lestrade?”

                Lestrade ran a hand over his face and sighed. “It was a misunderstanding. You know how he can be, John. I just wanted him to do the group project with a group.”

                John stared at him like Lestrade was a mad man. Then he groaned, “Why? You know how he can be.” Lestrade raised a brow at John’s mocking tone. John ignored him and continued, “You can’t do stuff like that when I’m not here. It makes him go mad. I thought you knew that.”

                “I didn’t think he’d go _that_ mad,” said Lestrade defensively.

                John rolled his eyes as Sherlock walked in the door. He looked like his usual smug self, although Greg did notice a rather large hickey on Sherlock’s neck. Greg’s raised his brows and shot a look at John, who blushed slightly but looked defiant. Sherlock announced, “You were wrong Lestrade. Of course that’s hardly an unusual occurrence, however you were much more spectacularly wrong than normal.”

  
                Greg scoffed, unimpressed, but John snorted. “You were out of your mind with worry. You were just as spectacularly wrong as he was.”

                “No I wasn’t.”

                “Yes you were.”

                “You’re delusional with fever, John. I told you that you shouldn’t come in.”

                “You told me – Liar! You wanted me to come in for the entire day just so I could confirm…”

                John trailed off looking uncertain. Sherlock’s eyes narrowed and his mouth tightened in obvious annoyance and not-so-obvious anxiety. “Confirm what John?”

                He made an irritated noise, rubbing tiredly at his eyes, before looking at Sherlock. His face softened as he said, “Confirm that I gave the biggest git in school a hickey, okay?”

                Sherlock frowned, “No you gave _me_ a hickey.”

                “And who do you think the biggest git in school is?”

                “Anderson.”

                John choked on a laugh and leaned his forehead against Sherlock’s shoulder, clearly exhausted. Greg pretended he didn’t notice the look on Sherlock’s face soften as he placed his hand in the middle of John’s back. Greg turned to his desk and riffled through papers that he didn’t need to rifle through. “Lestrade,” snapped Sherlock, “John needs to go home.”

                “Yes, he does. You can take him but you have to come back.” Greg insisted firmly. Sherlock waved a hand absently and there was a very small chance that Greg would actually see either boy the rest of the day.

                After they were gone Greg allowed himself a small smile before he decided to make a call. After the other caller offered a greeting Greg said, without as much heat as he had intended, “Oh you bastard.”  
                Amusement laced Mr. Holmes’ voice as he said, “I take it you had a visit from John Watson this morning.”

                “Yeah. I asked you to warn John about Sherlock but, somehow, I get the feeling you didn’t do that.”

                “You have good instincts.” Mr. Holmes murmured. “I decided that it would be for the best if John were a victim of a ‘surprise attack’ from Sherlock and his insecurities.”

                “Best how?”

                “I assume that you either saw the evidence or were informed of the change in the relationship between my little brother and John.”

                Greg grinned, “Of course. I have to admit that I was worried John wasn’t… interested.”

                “This did seem like the quickest way to determine his interest. Surely you understand that if I had given John warning he would have had time to compose himself for the emotional mess that would be Sherlock. This way he didn’t have time to think about what his reaction would be. I am sorry for the inconvenience but it was deemed necessary.”

                “Right. Is it often deemed necessary that you be a complete cock?”

                Mr. Holmes chuckled, which was a little bit of a relief, and responded, “I suppose that depends on who one asks. Is it your practice to use foul language at school?”

                “You’d be surprised.” Greg replied with amusement. “So do you really think it’s a good idea to get those two together when they’re so young? Teen love isn’t exactly known for its lasting power.”

                “John is irrationally loyal and Sherlock is obsessive. The bigger problem will probably be convincing Sherlock that he and John are not now married.”

                “So you’re going to set yourself up as the enemy?”

                “I am well used to being viewed by Sherlock as his archenemy. That will hardly be a new role.”

                “Ungrateful bastard, right? Although with your age difference have you always been enemies?”

                There was a heavy pause on the other end of the line. Finally he answered, “No. I was not Sherlock’s enemy until I became his guardian. A job hazard, one could say.”

                “Yeah,” agreed Greg quietly. Mr. Holmes seemed just as adept at hiding emotions as his younger brother. Fortunately Greg was familiar enough with Sherlock to hear and discern the emotion in Mr. Holmes’ voice. It was clear that being enemies with Sherlock was not a pleasant experience for Mr. Holmes.  It was actually a little nice to have that extra reassurance that Mr. Holmes cared about Sherlock. Although Greg still felt for the man. It couldn’t have been easy to lose his parents only to become guardian to Sherlock Holmes. In Greg’s opinion it was a testament to Mr. Holmes’ ability that Sherlock wasn’t laden with a few dozen more behavioral issues and problems.

                “Well I suppose I should let you get back to your work now.”

                “Wait!” Greg cried, hoping this time Mr. Holmes would listen. “Dinner?”

                The younger man’s surprise was practically palpable. “I… sorry?”

                Greg rubbed his face, cursing himself for being an idiot. “No I’m sorry. I just thought… well, you’ve missed a lot of meeting so your PA could attend. I thought maybe you could find the time for a meeting now.”

                A few students entered the room while Mr. Holmes remained silent. Greg sincerely wished that he hadn’t been so quick to call because now he would have to censor himself. Finally Mr. Holmes said, “I wish to make it clear that the reason for my absence has not been a lack of interest. I am immensely interested in Sherlock and the things that he does. It is because of this interest that I already know everything you could possibly have to say to me. I am better at hiding it but redundancy bores me as much, if not more so than, it does Sherlock.”

  
                “Oh,” muttered Greg while he tried to plaster on a smile for the still entering students. Somehow being referred to as a redundancy was more lowering than being referred to as stupid.

                “However if I had known attending one of the meetings would have led to meeting you then I would have attended one.”

                “Oh.” Greg sat up straighter, unable to keep the grin off his face.

                “I accept your invitation to dinner with the amendment that we do not talk about Sherlock.”

                “Yes! Alright, good then. I… I have to go now but I’ll call you later.”

                “Thank you, yes. Good-bye Gregory.”

                Greg grinned even more widely at the use of his name… and at, apparently, getting a date. “Yeah. Bye Mycroft.”


End file.
